The Crossover Series
Part One - "Changes"
Catherine smoothed out the blue silk of her dress and looked at herself in the mirror. As she trailed her eyes upwards, she caught Gil standing in the doorway of her bedroom.
"Like what you see?" she asked quietly, smiling at his reflection.
"I do," he replied in an equally soft tone. One side of his mouth curved up into a boyish smile, and his eyes traveled over her body again. When his gaze returned to hers, through the mirror, he asked, "You're still planning on dragging me to this thing?"
Catherine turned around and faced him. She felt her eyes narrow and her lips purse in frustration. "Gil, you promised me that you'd be my date to my father's party," she said, trying to keep the fire out of her voice. "You said you'd try," she added quietly, as her lower lip wedged itself between her teeth.
Gil sighed and stepped into the room, closer to her. "Cath, I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I know... you're right. I said I'd try."
She didn't know what she expected from Sam's birthday party. Ever since she had mentioned it, Gil had distanced himself from her---which was an awful experience, since a few months ago, they had been so determined to get as close as humanly possible. The mention of her father was enough to put a wrench in the works. Catherine wondered if he'd ever understand why she was willing to get to know him, if he'd ever accept that side of her life---if he'd ever be able to be in the same room as her father.
It hadn't been easy for her, either. It had taken a lot of awkward meals and meetings before she saw what her mother loved about that man, before she saw that he could be a father to her and a grandfather to Lindsey---as long as she was still careful, in the back of her mind. And she tried to tell him that. She stopped trying to convince him, when they had a fight at work that even caught Ecklie's attention.
Catherine knew Gil hadn't changed his mind, but he said the words and she felt he should be rewarded for that much. She smiled a little and leaned in and kissed him.
He sighed against her lips and put his arms around her. She smiled a little more and brought her hands up to rest on the back of his neck. Her fingertips worried themselves over the short, curly hairs they found there; that made him shiver and wordlessly insist that they deepen the kiss.
Before she knew it, the kiss had spiraled out of control and she was being pushed against her vanity counter. His hands were traveling everywhere---as were her own hands. They plucked at his suit and shirt and belt as his hands tried in vain to lift her skirt up over her hips to expose more skin for his exploration.
"Gil," she breathed. "Gotta stop," she insisted weakly.
"Don't want to," he protested. "You don't either."
Catherine whimpered. She wanted to curse him, she wanted to tug herself out of his arms and remind him that their limousine would be arriving any minute.
Instead, she dug her hands into the lapels of his suit jacket and tugged him even closer.
"Be careful of my dress," she whispered as his lips broke from hers. "I don't have another one."
"Then we can just stay here," Gil told her quietly, his lips curving into a hopeful smile.
Catherine glared at him. "No, we can't. So don't even think about wrecking the skirts," she scolded, even though her face was still pleasantly flushed with desire. Her stern expression melted into a softer one, and she eased herself off of the top of her vanity and slowly adjusted the dress so she exposed her shoes, long legs encased in stockings, their garters, and the small swatch of fabric that passed as underwear.
Gil groaned low in his throat. She smirked and leaned back against the piece of furniture.
"C'm'ere," she whispered.
He didn't hesitate. She rewarded him by pressing her palm against his pants, against the hardening flesh that was well hidden by the pleats and accompanying suit jacket. He groaned again and his head dropped forward as his hips rocked under her ministrations.
"Mmm... I think you're ready for me..."
Catherine would have laughed at the dry look Gil shot her---but she was too wrapped up in contemplating what that expression also promised her.
She helped him out of his suit jacket, and then she loosened his tie; she didn't bother unfastening any of the buttons on his shirt, though, and simply settled for pushing the crisp fabric up over his torso once it was pulled free from his pants.
The belt was tricky, but Catherine was determined and she succeeded after a minute of struggling with the metal fastenings. Gil sighed and then sucked in his breath sharply; her fingers brushed against the skin below his waistband as she unfastened the button and then the zip fly.
Neither adult made a sound until Gil pushed the tiny piece of fabric aside and in doing so, brushed his fingers against Catherine's core. She whimpered and he sighed contentedly.
They hadn't been together long, but they had quickly learned to appreciate the moments of skin on skin, of scents and sounds, of togetherness.
She tilted her hips to an inviting angle, and he accepted the proposition. He slid inside of her quickly---not too quickly to bruise, but just quickly enough---and she wrapped her stocking-clad legs around his waist.
Their movements were precise. This wasn't a long night or even a short morning---this was a brief encounter moments before they were to be transported somewhere else. Catherine wondered how she'd be able to play the part of dutiful daughter, feeling evidence of Gil inside of her and on her skin, since she knew his fingers would leave telltale marks on her hips and upper thighs; and then, he brought his mouth down to her neck, and Catherine realised she would have another, more visible mark to be concerned with.
Catherine scratched his stomach, sides, and back with her newly manicured nails as he thrust into her repeatedly. She contented herself with knowing he would feel those for the remainder of the night.
He whined, she moaned and sought his lips for a kiss, smothering their sounds as they pushed each other towards the inevitable edge of pleasure. When they arrived upon that edge, they both broke away from the kiss; Catherine broke away to whimper and to breath deeply, while Gil broke away to shudder and make a soft squeaking noise.
There wasn't really time for languid kisses, so they made due with a few brief caresses before they put themselves back together.
"You marked me," Catherine accused as they made their way down the hall, to the front door.
Gil didn't say anything---but he smirked, and that simple expression said enough.
Catherine noticed that he grew quiet on the ride to Sam's party, being held in one of his casinos. When they arrived at the velvet rope and red carpet, he clammed up vocally; he remembered to smile as he got out of the limousine, to take her hand, to help her out, and to follow her as a good date would as they negotiated flashbulbs and nosy reporters.
"Mugs," Sam greeted her as they made it inside. He beamed at her---although Catherine still couldn't tell if the expression was genuine or not. "I'm glad you made it." The man looked at Gil. "And you as well. I hear you two are an item now."
Catherine laughed before Gil could say anything. She knew if he would say anything inappropriate to her father, that that would be the moment he would choose.
"Well, I guess we might have been one sooner if we had been paying attention," Catherine admitted honestly.
"I thought I saw a spark of something," Sam agreed. He kissed his daughter's cheek. Catherine almost backed up, unprepared for the display of affection, but she caught herself just in time. He had been trying; she couldn't forgive many of the things in his past, but she knew she had to meet him part of the way and try herself. "Enjoy the party, Mugs," he told her. "Gil, make sure you take her for a few spins out on the dance floor."
"I intend to, Sam," Gil said quietly, looking at the other man calmly. Catherine rubbed her fingers over his wrist, hoping to coax him to be warm. It hadn't worked; deep down, she knew it wouldn't have.
Catherine didn't know what had compelled her to do what she did, but she felt herself drawn to her father. She put her hand on Sam's arm and leaned in to quickly kiss his cheek. "Make sure you save me a dance, Sam," she told him with a warm smile.
He beamed back at her and nodded, before sauntering off to greet the rest of his visitors.
"Why did you do that?" Gil asked quietly.
Catherine shrugged. "Because I felt like it," she said in a similarly quiet voice. She sighed and turned her body so she was in front of him. "How about a drink?"
Gil nodded in agreement. She was relieved when he squeezed her hand, but she couldn't quite shake the feeling that Gil would never accept the science of her family.
They had a drink, then a dance, and then another drink before deciding to sit at a table. Gil inched his chair closer to hers and put an arm around her shoulders. She sighed happily and leaned against him, for a moment believing that they would be alright.
More people started filtering into the seating area; Catherine guessed it was because the buffet was nearby, and the extravagant dishes with their enticing aromas would not be ignored for long.
A couple of people sat at their table, and after brief introductions, their conversation with Gil and Catherine ended. Catherine turned to Gil, and they murmured between themselves for a few minutes; they spoke about the shift they were missing, wondering if Greg was driving Nick and Warrick crazy yet, wondering if Ecklie trusted the three to handle the shift on their own, and so on.
When Sara came up, Catherine artfully---at least, she hoped it was artful---dodged discussing the woman. She knew that Sara and Gil had an old history, and a recent history, but she chose to ignore it. Gil often imagined that she was not Sam Braun's daughter and remaining heir, so she often imagined that Gil and Sara were not once romantically involved.
"Mind if we join you?"
The rough, yet feminine, voice made Catherine break away from her conversation with Gil and look up. The woman looked very young, and yet there was something old in her eyes; the man accompanying her was tall, dark, and older, and he didn't seem to be as happy as she was, that they were there.
She smiled back at the blonde and shook her head. "No, of course not. There are plenty of chairs here."
Over the next few minutes, Catherine learned that the woman's name was George---short for Georgia, although Catherine felt that the shortened version of her name suited her better---and that the man's name was Rube. She learned that they were from the West Coast, and not very used to the dry, desert heat.
"Takes some getting used to, I'm afraid," Gil said sympathetically. "I grew up on the Atlantic, and then I moved to San Francisco to teach... but, after a month or so, you don't mind the dry air."
Rube gave a half-smile. "Well, I don't think I want to be here for a month---no offense," he added at the end. "I mean, it's a nice place. Bright lights, lots of activity... but I like the quiet."
"Nothing more quiet than the desert," Catherine mused, smiling more.
"He's set in his ways," George explained, smiling at her companion. She inched closer to him, smirked, and then turned to Catherine and Gil. "I try to break him out of his shell... but it's futile."
Catherine sympathised, although she didn't think Gil would appreciate it if she vocalised that sentiment. She chose to direct the conversation to other subjects---the casino, the party, the live entertainment in Vegas that week, their careers, and then their relation to the birthday boy.
Gil stiffened a bit, but didn't really comment much on his relationship with Sam Braun. Catherine explained that she was his daughter, and George's expression softened enough that the strawberry blonde took notice.
Rube cleared his throat and changed the subject---asking Gil what he did for a living. Catherine turned and smiled as Gil spoke about being a crime scene investigator and an entymologist; she saw his eyes light up as he spoke about his research projects and told them that he and Catherine worked together.
"You two get much done, working together?" Rube asked.
Gil smiled and tilted his head to the side. "Actually, yes."
"We're a good team," Catherine added, slipping her hand into Gil's and squeezing.
"Don't ever forget that," Rube advised as he wiped his fingers on a napkin. George pulled a yellow post-it note out of her small, beaded purse, and the man glanced at it before nodding. He turned his attention back to Catherine and Gil. "You two fit---don't lose that," he added.
Catherine exchanged a potent look with Gil before looking back at Rube. "I'm not planning on losing that," she said firmly, squaring her shoulders so she almost appeared defensive.
"Good," Rube replied. He checked his watch and said, "Well, I guess we better be heading out. C'mon, Georgia." He rose to his feet and extended his hand for shaking. "It was nice to meet you both."
"Likewise," Catherine agreed, smiling at both of them as she shook their hands.
Gil kissed Catherine's shoulder after they left their table. "Would you like to dance?" he asked quietly.
"Dance?" she murmured, turning her smile onto him.
"Yeah," he said quietly.
Catherine smiled more. "Sure," she whispered. "Let's go."
Gil took her into his arms as they rose to their feet and then he guided her to the dance floor. Catherine marveled at how easily she slid into his arms and moved to the music with him; they didn't need a leader and a follower, they seemed to work off of each other.
She closed her eyes and rested her head against Gil's shoulder. When he rubbed his hand over her bare back, Catherine shivered and snuggled into him as a smile stretched her lips subtly.
The gasps and screams didn't catch her attention right away---even after Gil stopped swaying to the live music, she didn't notice the change on the casino floor.
"Catherine, my dear," Gil said quietly as he nuzzled her temple. "Something's happened."
"What?" she asked softly,
"I don't know," he replied as they parted and as Catherine turned to look around. "The commotion's over by the bar."
"Well, let's go check it out," she said, sounding reluctant. Gil took her hand and guided her towards the bar, towards the crowd of people. "Maybe there was an accident. I don't have my phone... do you---"
Something about the way people were looking at her sent chills through Catherine's spine. She stopped talking abruptly and stared back at the crowd. She saw Rube and George, a variety of other people she had been introduced to that evening, and her father's friends---or those people who could be considered friends in good times.
Her heart didn't leap into her throat until she saw Sam lying on the floor, a wound bleeding at his temple.
"What... what..." she dropped down to her knees and shook his shoulder. "Sam? Can you hear me?" she asked as loudly as she could manage. Her fingers sought his pulse, but didn't find it. Her lower lip trembled as her eyes filled with tears.
Gil called out: "Somebody call the para---"
"Already called," Rube said quietly.
Catherine put her hands down onto Sam's still-warm chest. She wasn't sobbing, but she did have silent tears streaming steadily down her face.
She felt Gil's presence behind her before she felt his hands on her shoulders. "C'mon," he urged gently. "Let's step back... they're here. They're going to take Sam away."
"I don't want to leave him---"
"There's nothing we can do," Gil whispered near her ear. He rubbed her back. "Come on... the police will want to talk to us, and then we should go home so you can rest."
"Gil---"
A sob bubbled up and burst from her mouth as the coroner's officers arrived. She saw David out of the corner of her blurry eyes, but Gil pulled her into a hug before he got too close.
"Come on," he urged quietly as he tugged her to his feet.
Catherine followed blindly, keeping her face tucked into his chest and shoulder as he pulled her away from the crowd. The chilly desert air hit her hard, shocking her into breaking from Gil's warm embrace.
He called out to her, but she ignored him. It wasn't a conscious decision---she didn't think to block him out. She felt herself pull away from him, she heard his voice grow more distant, as she walked out onto the sidewalk and into the cruel desert night.
"Ms. Willows?"
"Catherine," she corrected quietly when she heard George's voice immediately behind her, blocking out Gil's curious calls.
"Catherine," George amended. "You're... going to be fine. You'll be ready for... for what's coming next."
The blonde's eyebrows furrowed as she contemplated what the young woman was saying. She didn't understand it. George's next words brought tears to her eyes and a hitch in her breathing.
"You're all he had left, you and your daughter... and he made sure you would know that in the end, Mugs," the near-stranger said. "Do what your gut tells you and you'll do just fine."
Next to Gil's calls to her, Catherine heard Rube's calls trying to reach George. She turned to look at the young woman for a moment, through her tears, and she wanted to ask how she knew what she spoke of, but the words would not come out.
George gave her a tiny smile, before she turned away and walked to Rube. Catherine kept her back to Gil; she wasn't ready to face him yet.
He didn't know that, though. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. When she stiffened he didn't let go.
"I'm so sorry, Catherine," Gil whispered near her ear. "We'll get through this."
There was a sinking feeling deep inside of her, churning her insides to make room for the canyon of darker emotions. She wanted to believe Gil, but she didn't have that kind of optimism.
&&&&
Part Two - "Reactions"
Catherine looked around the office---once belonging to Sam, now belonging to her---and felt her breath catch in her throat. She still found it hard to believe that she was in control of the Braun empire, everything her father had worked for and everything in Las Vegas that she had detested.
"Ms. Willows," a quiet voice came from the doorway. "The crew from CSC is set up, broadcasting will begin in ten minutes, so we need to get you in your seat shortly."
She nodded and turned to look at her assistant, Sandy. She was a brilliant organiser, one that Sam had found and brought to his executive office---one that Catherine had no plans on releasing.
"How do I look?"
At Sandy's hesitation to an answer, Catherine smiled and said, "Honestly. Do I need anything?"
"A little lipgloss, ma'am," Sandy said politely as she ducked her eyes away.
Catherine smiled more. "Thanks." She reached up and touched her dangling earrings. "These are okay? Not too much?"
"They're perfect," Sandy told her. "And so is your dress." She picked up the clutch purse that was on the solid desk. "Shall we?"
"Is---"
Sandy checked her Blackberry. "Dr. Grissom's car hasn't arrived yet. But, I've been told it is en route."
"With him---"
"Inside, yes, ma'am."
Catherine smiled, feeling relief flutter inside of her. She hadn't been sure that Gil would come to the fight, to be her date for the event. He hadn't ever officially accepted her invitation, and anytime she pushed for an answer to it, they had a monumental fight.
After Sam's will had been read to a small group of people---Catherine, her daughter, her mother, and a few business associates---her relationship with Gil had been nearly destroyed. She was to inherit Sam's casinos and take over the business he had constructed---and that was unacceptable to her lover.
Gil had been furious and scared---furious that she would even consider stepping up to claim the Braun fortune and scared that the fortune would change her in ways that could not be undone. He didn't want that life for Catherine, and he definitely did not want any of that life for himself.
But, Catherine refused to walk away from it all. Not because of the fame and fortune her new life would bring, but because Sam had been her father---and she was willing to overlook a lot of his mistakes and accept what he had given her.
So, she handed her resignation to Conrad Ecklie and to Gil, and she walked away from her life as a CSI to become her father's daughter.
She still went to bed at night, alone and worried that she made the wrong decision, but she couldn't willingly turn her father's empire over to the power hungry men that claimed to be his friends. She couldn't deny that they were family and that she had to preserve that.
At Sandy's cluck of tongue, Catherine smiled and accepted the clutch purse. As they walked to the executive elevator, she pulled her lipgloss out and touched the shimmering compound to her lips.
"Perfect," Sandy commented as she took a call on her phone.
Catherine tried to tune out the conversation, but her mind was too sharp for that. She knew she shouldn't worry about inane, day-to-day details, but she knew that she had to know all in order to successfully manage the casino kingdom. She knew that Sam had been the same way, even if he tried to disarm her with an "aww, shucks" kind of facade. Her investigator's mind wouldn't let her down and it would see her through every day in her new position.
Still, she let Sandy think that she hadn't been paying attention. She had learned a few things from her father before he died.
"The executive producer of Sports Night, Dana Whitaker, is downstairs," Sandy said to Catherine as the elevator descended through the last fifteen floors. "She'd like to meet with you before the broadcast."
"Of course," Catherine said with a smile. "At the bar, or in the control room?"
"Control room, in case---"
"You think we're going to throw down?" Catherine asked, suppressing a laugh. "I can behave in public, Sandy."
"Yes, well..."
"She's a professional, I'm a professional..." Catherine trailed off as the elevator stopped moving and as its doors opened. "We'll be fine. But, the control room is fine with me."
Sandy expertly guided Catherine through the crowd, as Catherine's personal bodyguards---she refused to call them thugs, even though that would be the title some people would give them---took up the rear.
"When Gil arrives, please make sure I'm told," Catherine told her assistant. "Hell, make sure I'm interrupted," she added as an afterthought. "We've been negotiating with CSC for weeks, there can't be too much else to iron out, ten minutes before the fight."
"Five minutes," Sandy corrected.
Catherine smiled, expecting a response like that, and then she walked into the temporary control room that they had set up for CSC. She had decided, in order to get more control over the event---protection from their cameras and interviewers' probing questions for her VIP guests and family, the commentators she wanted, and so on---that she would invite more of the Sports Night crew to Las Vegas, into one of her hotels, on her tab. The casino would be hosting a party afterwards, and she had already planned specific events over the next two days for some of the cast and crew of the late night sports show. So far, it had been a successful tactic.
She liked Dana Whitaker. She was smart and funny, in her own way, and Catherine enjoyed talking with her. They finished their meeting in one minute---just to go over where the VIP guests were seated and to get a few more passes to the party after the fight---and then Catherine was dragged away by Sandy, while Dana was tugged off to the side by her second in command, Natalie.
"Sandy?"
"Dr. Grissom has arrived at the back entrance," Sandy said quietly, smiling. "You wanted to be told when---"
"Thank you, Sandy," Catherine interrupted, before leaving the control room quickly.
Gil was still waiting near the back entrance for her when she arrived. She beamed at him and leaned in to kiss his lips---but was only offered his cheek. She chose to ignore that gesture and to instead focus upon the fact that he was there with her.
"Good drive?"
"Yeah," he told her, smiling. He reached out and rubbed her arm. "You look incredible, Catherine."
"You're very handsome, too," she murmured.
His expression clouded over for a moment. When she asked what was wrong, he said, "I don't know how long I'll be able to stay."
"Fight night in Vegas," she said softly. "Tends to bring out the crazies."
"And with crazies comes crime," he reminded her.
She nodded and looped her arm through his as Sandy came into sight, looking slightly frazzled. She turned her attention back to Gil. "Shall we take our seats?"
"Are we in the crowd or---"
"I thought you might find the front row too gory," she interrupted quietly. "So, we're in one of the booths. Is that okay?"
He nodded and smiled. "Of course."
The walk to the booth didn't take very long, and as Casey McCall and Dan Rydell started their show, ringside, she and Gil slid into their very private booth.
"Champagne?" Catherine asked quietly. "There's other stuff here, too, but---"
"Water's fine," Gil told her. "Whatever."
Catherine rolled her eyes when he couldn't see the expression, and she muttered under her breath, "Well, I'm having champagne."
After she poured sparkling water for Gil and champagne for herself, she joined Gil in the comfortable seats, and took his free hand in hers. Gil squeezed her hand and threaded his fingers with hers; she smiled a little and hoped they could work things out.
&&&&
"Casey McCall," Catherine said quietly as she slipped her hand into his. "I'm Catherine Willows. It's a pleasure to meet you."
Gil watched as they interacted, as the other sports anchor eyed the woman, as his stomach tightened.
Casey beamed at her and chuckled a bit, "Believe me, I know who you are already. It's really great to meet you, too."
"Are you going to monopolise all of the pretty women in here, tonight?" Dan asked. "Because if you are, I think I'm going to need a new wing man."
Casey turned to look at Dan. "Was I ever your wing man?"
"You're always my wing man," Dan replied. He sent a charming smile Catherine's way and extended his hand for shaking. "I'm Dan Rydell, and it's an honour to meet you, too."
Catherine chuckled as she shook her hand in his, the deep chuckle that made the hairs on the back of Gil's neck tremble. He did not like the way she charmed everyone around her, the way she pandered to the people who wanted pieces of her time and personality.
"Likewise," she murmured. She released his hand and then put her hand on Gil's forearm. "This is Gil Grissom. He's my date tonight," she said quietly, avoiding his eyes when he looked at her. "He's also a forensic scientist here in Vegas."
Casey shook his hand first. Gil's stomach rolled. He didn't like this man very much.
"You must be pretty busy, then," Casey commented. "City of sin and all that."
Gil tilted his head and forced himself to smile. "Very busy," he agreed.
"How did you like the fight?" Dan asked, as he shook Gil's hand after Casey was finished with the gesture.
"It was definitely interesting," Gil replied. "I used to watch boxing matches when I was in school, for blood spatter research, but I had to stop after a while." He shook his head a little. "It got to be a bit much."
"The sport of kings can be a bit messy," Dan admitted.
"Horse racing?" Gil asked, confused suddenly.
Dan hung his head as Casey laughed softly. "Sorry. I keep doing that---" he said as he turned to his partner. "Poker, now boxing."
"You've got problems," Casey pointed out.
"What's boxing the sport of, then?"
"Of people who like to beat other people up?" Catherine interjected, smiling more. Gil wanted to glare at her, wanted to tell her that she should not be grinning like that in front of those men; he hated that he wasn't in any sort of place to make demands on her, and he hated that he wasn't the one she was grinning at.
Casey chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so. Good one."
The little brunette, Catherine's personal assistant, came up and cleared her throat. "Ms. Willows, your VIP guests have arrived at the party."
"Well, I'll leave you three to shoot bear or figure out who's the wing man or whatever," Catherine said to the three men. "I'll catch up with you soon---I want to hear what you thought of the fight," she said to Dan and Casey, reaching out and touching their arms as she spoke to them. Then, she turned to Gil and leaned up and kissed his cheek. "And I want you to save me a dance."
"If I---"
"If you get called out on a case, find me first, okay?" she asked softly.
He nodded and she rewarded him by brushing her fingers over his short beard. He fought to suppress a shiver, loving how her fingers felt against his jaw.
Three pairs of eyes followed her across the room. Gil's lingered a little longer than the others' did, and then he turned back to the men and started a conversation about the match and other sports.
Dan left them after a while---he saw a woman that was too attractive to pass up---and Gil found himself warming up to Casey McCall. He didn't think they'd ever become friends, but he found that he had an interesting conversational style and a sense of humour lacking in some of the other guests.
"So, you and Catherine?" Casey asked.
Gil shrugged. "We're trying. We used to work together, but then she quit to do this..." he trailed off and shrugged again, unsure of what was appropriate to share with the other man.
Casey nodded and sipped his drink. Gil couldn't remember what it was. He thought it might be scotch, but he wasn't sure. Properly identifying alcohol was never one of his strong suits; he hadn't really started trying to drink until Catherine joined the forensics lab in Las Vegas, as a rookie investigator, and started insisting that he join her for drinks at the end of every case.
"Dating's tough," Casey commiserated.
"Well said," Gil commented wryly. "From experience?"
"One failed marriage, three failed relationships... yeah, you could say that," Casey replied, smiling a little. "Have you ever been married?"
Gil shook his head. "No... I'm too obsessed with my work."
"That's what my ex-wife used to say," Casey remarked on a chuckle.
Gil smiled and took in a mouthful of his own drink---red wine. When he saw Casey's attention drift over his shoulder and into the crowd behind him, he turned and looked to see what had appeared.
A blonde woman, dressed in a slinky black dress, was walking purposefully towards them. Casey sucked in a sharp breath and Gil turned back to face him.
"Someone you know?" he asked in a mild tone of voice.
The other man nodded. "My boss. One of those failed relationships."
Gil's brow furrowed as he tried to place the face with a name. "Dana... White? No... Whit... Whitman?"
"Close. Whitaker," Casey supplied.
The men fell silent until Dana appeared at their table. She gave Casey a smile as she squeezed his shoulder affectionately. Gil was surprised; he expected hostility, not their warm looks and quiet words.
"Dana, this is Gil Grissom," Casey said, making introductions. "He's here with Catherine."
"Nice to meet you," Gil said, smiling and extending his hand for a shake.
"Likewise," Dana replied, smiling brightly in his direction. "Did you like the fight?"
Gil shrugged and launched into a variation on what he had told Casey and Dan earlier in the night. Dana nodded and responded intelligently, adding her own insights into the battle they had seen before going to the party on the casino floor.
Dana managed to snag a flute of champagne off of a passing tray and then she hopped up onto one of the tall chairs at the table.
Casey chuckled when she fumbled her first attempt at sitting, and a stern glare from Dana smothered the sound effectively.
She turned to Gil. "So, are you in the casino business, too?"
"Do I look like it?"
She shrugged. "How would I know? I'm not in the trade. I can't spot these people on spec."
He smiled. "Well, no, I'm not. I'm a forensic scientist."
"Are you any good?" she asked, smiling back at him.
"We're the number two lab in the country," he told her, to answer to her question.
"So, if Casey does something stupid tonight, I shouldn't kill him. Because you'd figure out I did it."
Gil laughed softly and nodded. "Exactly."
Casey pouted. "I wouldn't do something stupid."
"You do plenty of stupid things," Dana pointed out.
"Not on purpose," Casey said, trying to defend himself.
"That's usually why they're so stupid," Dana shot back.
Gil smiled and listened as their conversation went back and forth, much faster than what he assumed was normal conversation. Their topics evolved from Casey's stupidity to something Dana referred to as 'shoe money,' to Dana's silliness, and then to sports.
"If you try to sack me, here in public, I'm not going to be happy with you," Casey said, setting his drink down and putting his hands up.
"My brother taught me how to do it."
Casey smiled. "I know he did. I've seen you demonstrate on Jeremy and many, many others. But, we're at a party and I really don't want a picture of me---"
"Being beat up by a girl?" Dana finished for him.
"Exactly."
"What are you guys doing over here?" Dan asked as he walked up to them. "There are many, many fans here..."
"I have fans?" Dana asked.
Casey straightened the lapels on his jacket. "No, I have fans."
"Correction," Dan spoke up. "Casey and I both have fans. I have more, but he has a small few here. And they want his autograph." He tilted his head and motioned towards a group of well-dressed women by the bar. "Shall we, McCall?"
"Definitely," Casey agreed after he finished his drink. He stood and shook Gil's hand again. "It was nice to meet you. Good luck with everything... and---" he shot a look at Dana "---keep her away from the blackjack tables---"
"Shoe money tonight!" Dana cried out happily.
Casey shook his head, groaned, clapped Gil on the shoulder, and then followed Dan away from the table.
"Shoe money?" Gil echoed, still not understanding.
"Gambling money should be spent on something fun... even frivolous," she said, trying to explain.
"And you spend yours on shoes."
She beamed at him. "I have a weakness for fancy designer shoes."
"A sports fan, a shoe fan... and a beautiful woman. Your husband must be very happy," Gil commented, feeling jealous of her relationship with Casey and with her romantic partner, whoever that was.
Dana smiled wryly. "Now, if only I could snag a husband. He'd be happy."
"Oh... I apologise---"
"Don't," she interrupted firmly. "Make it up to me."
"How?"
She smiled, more warmly this time. "A dance?" After a long pause, she added, "Of course, I'm not looking for a husband. So, don't feel any pressure. I just want to dance with you." She looked over her shoulder, towards the dance floor. "C'mon, all the cool kids are doing it."
Gil tilted his head and smiled. "I was never cool."
"Tonight, you are."
&&&&
When Catherine saw Gil and Dana Whitaker dancing in the sea of people, she had been with a few of Sam's former colleagues---other casino owners, entertainment managers, and other Las Vegas celebrities. She wanted to break away from her entourage immediately and interrupt Gil's moment with the Sports Night executive producer; however, she knew that would be inappropriate.
Instead, she forced herself to linger and see the conversation through. When she could pull herself away, she did so with grace, and she slowly made her way through the crowd, to the dancefloor.
Gil's gaze met hers the instant their bodies were in line. She could feel her cheeks flush as one corner of his mouth turned up in a little, quirky smile. She didn't hear what he said near Dana's ear, since she was too focused on moving around the dancing couples, but when she was next to them, Dana had lifted her gaze to Catherine's face.
"Hi, Dana," Catherine said warmly. "Do you mind if I cut in?"
The other blonde smiled. "Oh... go right ahead," she said quietly as she stepped back. "The show went well, don't you think?" she asked, untangling herself. "I mean, apart from that little blip in twenty-two, but---"
Catherine smiled more. "It went well. Thank you for your hard work."
"That's my job," Dana said happily. She ran a hand through her long, blonde hair and then smiled wryly. "Maybe I should go check and see what sort of trouble my boys are getting themselves into. See you both later," she said, before walking away.
Gil turned his head towards Catherine. She wondered if he was disappointed that she interrupted their dance.
"Are you cutting in or not?" Gil asked, curving his mouth into a smile and preventing Catherine from getting an answer to her yet-to-be-asked question.
She smiled back at him and slid into his open arms. She looked up at him as they started moving to the slower music. "I miss you," she murmured. "Seems like we never get to see each other anymore."
"We don't," he said, confirming her beliefs. "I'm busy at the lab... and you're doing this."
"I didn't really have a choice, Gil."
She saw the look on his face that meant he was literally biting his tongue, struggling not to say anything. She chose not to comment, and instead rested her head on his shoulder.
Deep down in her heart, she knew she did have a choice. She could have left her father's fortune to someone else, she could have stayed at the lab, and she could have made Gil happy. But, she also knew that taking that path wouldn't have left her feeling happy. Running the casino empire didn't make her happy, but it did keep her from feeling the regret of never giving her father an honest chance at being her father. If she had turned her back on her new responsibilities, that regret would have weighed her heart down even more.
When Gil's phone vibrated against his chest, tucked discretely in his coat pocket, she frowned and inched away from him so he could answer it.
"Grissom," he said into the phone, his eyes and emotions unreadable.
Catherine heard him address Sara and she frowned and inched further away. One more straw on the camel's back, she thought to herself as she crossed her arms and waited for Gil to finish the call.
"I've been called in."
"Since when do you take orders from Sara?" Catherine asked, hearing the hostility in her voice.
"I'm not taking orders from her," he corrected. "She's asked for my help on a case... with an experiment."
"Can't it keep until the end of the party?" she asked, not hiding her disappointment nor struggling to suppress that hostility welling up inside of her.
Gil shrugged. "No, Catherine, it can't." He reached out and touched her cheek with one hand. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"
"Yeah," she said softly, although she didn't believe that he would.
She watched him leave---but not before stopping Dana and speaking with her, giving her his card in the process. She didn't know what that was about, but she didn't like it.
Instead of walking towards the group from CSC, she turned and walked towards the bar. She planned on ordering something potent and retreating to her office until it was time to bid her VIP guests farewell. She had schmoozed enough; she wanted to hide.
"This is a really fun place."
She turned and saw Casey McCall standing at her side, at the bar. She smiled a little. "I'm glad you're enjoying it." The bartender saw her standing off to the side and left the group of people at the centre of the bar to attend to her. She lifted her hand in a brief wave and then called out, "Scotch, neat."
Casey winced. "Rough night?"
She chuckled quietly and brushed her long, strawberry-blonde hair out of her eyes. "You could say that," she replied, before accepting a tumbler from the bartender, a man named Josh. She smiled and thanked her employee, and then she returned her attention to Casey. "You want the grand tour?"
"I had the tour earlier, but---"
Catherine, even in hindsight, was never really sure what compelled her to push the envelope a little past the point of no return. She sipped her drink as he started to talk, and after swallowing, she interrupted and gave him her best smile---the one she used to use to charm suspects into handing over evidence, the one she used to get bigger tips from her adoring fans when she was younger.
"I don't give group tours, Casey," she murmured, her voice roughened by the scotch that had almost burned her throat. By the way he swallowed and looked at her, she guessed he understood the meaning behind her words. "Shall we?"
"Sure," he said quietly, his voice roughened by something lower than scotch in one's throat. "Lead on."
&&&&
Part Three - "The Wreckage"
After driving Lindsey to school---the one regular activity she *never* missed out on, to be a good mother, to keep her small family together---Catherine returned to her office and met with her staff.
It was a routine meeting, covering topics like who the next scheduled high-rollers would be, newest attempts at casino scams, and so on. Catherine wasn't exactly bored, but she had trouble focusing on a lot of it. By the time Sandy came in to tell her she had an important call---worded in a way that she and Catherine had devised to describe when a close friend or family member was calling---she was glad to be done with the day-to-day business of her new job.
Once everyone filed out, she picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Hey, Boss," Warrick's deep, rich voice said, tickling her ear and making her heart warm.
"Hey," she murmured. A grin stretched her lips and she was glad her staff wasn't in the room, because she guessed that she probably looked a little dopey. "What's up?"
"Just checking in," he replied. "It's my day off. Thought I'd take my favourite girl to lunch."
She laughed softly. "I hope your girlfriend doesn't hear you talk like that... she might get jealous."
Warrick chuckled at that comment. "Nah... I make it clear up front that you come first."
"I'm not your boss any more," she reminded him.
"Still."
She sighed when silence filled the line between them. "I... I could use a friend right now."
"Then, I called at a good time?"
"You really did," she told him honestly. "Wanna meet me---"
"I have a better idea," he interrupted. "Grab your gym gear and meet me out front."
Catherine blinked. "Gym gear?"
"Yeah."
"Warrick... it's the middle of the morning."
"And you're the boss, and you have a cell phone," he pointed out, not giving her a way to opt out. "I know you keep a change of clothes handy in case you decide to use the hotel gym. You have a suite there, which has a shower. Grab your gym gear."
Catherine stared off into space for a moment, wondering what he was going to do with her. She sighed again. "No run---"
"I just pulled a double," he interrupted. "There won't be any running. This is more for you."
After a long pause, created because Catherine didn't know what to say, Warrick asked, "You trust me, right?"
"I... yeah. Of course I do," she said, affectionate and honest.
"Good. Grab your gym gear. Fifteen minutes, Cath."
She pulled the phone away from her ear after she heard Warrick hang up, staring at it with disbelief and a little shock written on her face.
Sandy knocked and entered her office. "Ms. Willows, the head of---"
"Can it wait, Sandy?" Catherine asked. "I'd like to go out for a couple of hours." At the younger woman's confused expression, she added, "I'll have my cell. You'll be able to reach me if there's an emergency. But, something's come up and I need to... to deal with it."
The assistant nodded. "Of course. I'll bump this meeting until after lunch."
"Thank you, Sandy," Catherine said, while silently making a note to treat Sandy to lunch or to a new pair of designer shoes---depending on how helpful her morning out with Warrick turned out to be.
Fifteen minutes later, she had changed out of her suit and into her athletic clothing, and was pacing outside in front of the casino.
She heard the honk of the car before she figured out where Warrick was. Sitting in the departmental Tahoe, waving, Warrick pulled the vehicle to the curb and rolled the passenger side window down.
Catherine smiled at him, waved back, and then turned to her bodyguards---who insisted on following her to the door, and would have insisted on following her to wherever Warrick was taking her if it weren't for Catherine's firm disapproval of the notion---and dismissed them.
Then, she rushed over to the vehicle and hopped in.
Warrick smiled at her, and then offered her a half-embrace as he cupped one cheek and kissed the other. "You look good, Cath," he commented. "This life agrees with you."
She snorted. "Stop it."
"Never," he said as he put the vehicle into gear and drove away. After a few minutes, he glanced at her. "How's Lindsey?"
"Fine... better. She was angry with me after Sam died. I didn't really let them get close," she replied, leaning back in her seat and trying to repress images of her and Gil sharing a drive in a very similar vehicle. Part of her expected that their destination would be sectioned off with yellow tape. She ran a hand through her long bangs and looked at Warrick. "She likes the farm, though."
"You're going to keep it?"
"Mom's moved in," Catherine told him. "So, we spend the weekends there, usually. She grew up on a farm. Not one as... posh as this, but still. She's in the middle of redecorating the house though---since it's hers now, she wants it to actually be hers, and not Sam's."
"How are you dealing with everything?"
"Well, I look good, don't I?"
He smiled and reached down to squeeze her hand. "Yeah, you do. But, you could always fool the world."
"Not you."
"Yeah," he agreed quietly as he turned the vehicle onto another street, heading far away from the Strip. "Last time I saw you, you were frantic. Trying to figure everything out and---"
Catherine laughed, cutting him off. "I still haven't figured everything out. I don't know how Sam did it all."
"You're smart. I'll bet you're catching on."
"Sometimes I think my assistant thinks I'm an---" she saw the building that Warrick had pulled up alongside, and she blinked. "---an idiot."
Warrick shook his head. "Doubt it. C'mon."
As he parked the car and got out, taking a small gym bag of his own, Catherine turned her head and glared at him.
"Warrick Brown, what is the meaning of this?"
He smiled a little. "I think you need this. After a double, I always need to blow off some steam... and after seeing what's been going on at the lab, I'm guessing you need this, too."
Catherine closed her eyes and nodded. She knew he was referring to the massive amount of time Gil was spending at the lab, usually with a brunette who Catherine did not like (or trust) very much. Casey and Dana had passed without a hitch, without even a brief mention of their time spent with the New Yorkers; Sara, on the other hand, was a thorn in Catherine's side that refused to be removed.
Her dates with Gil were either being canceled or planned so far in advance that one of them usually forgot that the date had been set, until the last minute. When they were together, they were always interrupted. Gil was interrupted no more than Catherine was, although when Catherine's interruptions broke up their evening, there was no hope of rekindling the date for at least a couple of weeks.
Warrick opened her door and touched her face. She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Come on," he whispered. "This'll feel good."
She nodded again and unfastened her seat belt, before sliding out of the seat and falling into stride alongside of him.
He guided her through the doors and towards a locker room, where they could tuck away their stuff. She watched the moving people, heard the grunts, and smelled the sweat until her eyes went wide. Inside the locker room, she grabbed his arm and looked at him.
"I can't... I don't box!" she hissed. "I don't know how to do this!"
Warrick smiled. "I'm going to teach you."
He helped her put her gloves on, and when she was laced up, he took her out into the main gym and over to a secluded area, where punching bags were lined up and hanging in front of them.
"Oh boy," Catherine exhaled as she swung her arms by her sides.
Her friend chuckled and positioned himself beside her, before launching into an explanation on how to punch properly.
&&&&
Catherine puffed her breath upwards and blew her damp bangs out of her face, before stepping forward and swinging at the bag that Warrick was supporting.
"And that's for standing me up last week!" she growled before turning and delivering another solid punch. "And that's... that's for telling me Sara's experiment was more important than taking Lindsey to the zoo!"
Warrick remained silent. Catherine was grateful for that; she didn't want his comments, whether they were in support of her or in justification of Gil's actions.
She hopped on her feet, switched her stance and delivered a blow to the bag that had Warrick's eyes widening. He didn't sway, but he recognised the strength in the punch---considering she was a beginner and going at it for an hour.
"And that's for only seeing my father when you look at me!" she growled.
She didn't know Warrick had opened his mouth to talk, finally, nor that he assumed she was finished. Something inside of her snapped and before she knew it, she launched herself at the bag and delivered a series of close, solid jabs and hooks into the red leathery surface. She imagined it was Gil, or a representation of him, and she expunged as much tension as she could from her body and tried to transfer all of it into that solid body.
Warrick's hands were on her shoulders, snapping her back out of her reverie. He squeezed gently. "Hey... hey... shhh," he whispered. "It's okay..."
"It's not, though!" she whimpered. She realised that she was crying---and had no idea when she had started. "He's... he hates that I do this... that I took on Sam's life and... and he... he doesn't love me anymore. We waited so long... and... and now it's... it's just..."
She couldn't bring herself to say the last few words. Warrick tugged her in close for a hug and she accepted the embrace, burrowing her face into his neck and chest as her thickly padded hands came up and rested on his back and shoulder.
"You haven't lost me, Nick, or Greg... and I don't think you really lost him, either," Warrick murmured near her ear. "He's having trouble processing the changes. You know how he is about change, Cath."
She hiccuped and nodded in reply.
"Sooner or later, he'll realise that you're still you---that you're not going to change," he added. "And he'll get over it."
"B-but---"
"And until then," Warrick interrupted, as he rubbed her back gently. "You have three handsome, young men who would love to be your arm candy at any party you're hosting."
Catherine choked on a sob and a laugh that were both trying to escape at the same time. She peeked up at him. "Could cause quite a stir. 'Willows juggling three young men.'"
He smiled at her and reached up to wipe her tears away. "Don't worry about our honour," he said quietly. "We're looking out for you."
"Did Nicky send you---"
"Nah," Warrick replied when she stopped talking to sniffle. "We were just wondering how you were doing. Greg told me that on fight night, Gil came back early to work with Sara... and we just noticed things after that. You stopped showing up at the lab... and... we missed you."
"I miss you guys, too," she admitted. "Tell Nick and Greg I say hi?"
He nodded. "Of course."
She sighed and slipped out of Warrick's arms. She stretched her well-worked shoulder muscles out and then smiled a bit. "You're right. I do feel better."
"Good." He reached for her hands and started taking her gloves off. "Can I take you to lunch?"
"Let's have lunch at my office."
Catherine loved that there was no hesitation on Warrick's face at the mention of her office. He accepted the offer without blinking an eye, and they left the gym after putting her gloves away.
&&&&
The afternoon staff meeting was much easier to sit through. After her meal with Warrick was finished, she could admit to herself that she hadn't felt that relaxed in weeks.
She felt so relaxed---and almost content---that she decided to spend part of the afternoon on the casino floor. She never liked that part of her 'job,' because she didn't always feel up to being the charming casino owner. But, her good mood hadn't evaporated so she decided to take advantage of it.
She greeted a few regulars---not the bean counting, end of the road regulars, but the high stakes, well-off, enjoying-the-afternoon regulars---and then she greeted some of the pit bosses and enjoyed a drink at the bar. A few phone calls, with her public relations department and with Sandy, marred the afternoon but she didn't really let those moments get to her.
Lindsey came into the front of the building, with her grandmother behind her. Catherine didn't like that they came in through the front, but she didn't complain. Instead, she hugged her daughter---much to the young girl's displeasure---and kissed her mother's cheek.
"Let's eat here today," Catherine said quietly as she brushed her fingers through her daughter's fair hair. "How about it?"
Lindsey forgot to act cool and beamed up at her mother. Catherine rarely allowed Lindsey to spend time down on the casino floor; eating in the lounge was a treat that couldn't be ignored or played down.
"Are you sure, Catherine?"
She turned and looked at her mother. "Yeah... I don't feel like cooking and if we order room service, well, it's the same as here..." she noticed the older redhead was staring at her. "Mom?"
"You are in a very good mood," the older woman commented.
Catherine laughed softly. "Well, I had a good day," she said vaguely. "C'mon, Lindsey. Let's go pick a table and get a menu."
Lindsey bounced off, the plaid skirt of her school uniform flipping out in the breeze she created in her wake. Catherine chuckled softly and shook her head as she looped her arm through her mother's and guided her into following the little blonde girl.
"Did you and Gil sort things out?" the redhead asked suspiciously.
Catherine frowned a bit and shook her head. "Actually, no. A good friend came by today... we spent the morning together."
"Oh?"
With a laugh, the strawberry-blonde rolled her eyes. "He took me boxing, Mom."
Her mother laughed, too, and shook her head a little. "Well, that's... original. I thought---"
"I know what you thought," Catherine interrupted, smiling at the other woman. "And not with Warrick. We're just friends. Good friends."
"Warrick was here?" Lindsey asked, having heard the tail end of their conversation.
Catherine nodded as she sat down at the table---a quiet booth away from the other customers---and dropped her napkin into her lap. "He was, baby. Asked all about you. Wanted me to tell you 'hey' for him."
"Well, tell him I say 'hi' back, okay?"
She nodded again. "Of course."
They settled into a casual conversation about Lindsey's day at school and her mother's day on the farm. Catherine artfully avoided getting into too much detail about her job---although Lindsey certainly wanted to know about it. Catherine wondered if LIndsey was building aspirations to become a part of this world; she didn't know how that made her feel.
A woman entered the restaurant and caught Catherine's attention, taking her focus from her dessert and glass of wine. She was long, lean, and elegant; her eyes had a dangerous glint to them, but it was the way her lips curved that made Catherine shiver.
"Catherine?"
She blinked and turned back to her mother. "Sorry... I wasn't paying attention."
"Your assistant is standing by the table," the older redhead said, chuckling softly.
Catherine smiled and excused herself as she rose to her feet. She ruffled Lindsey's hair and walked away from the table, taking Sandy with her.
"What is it?"
"Those actors from L.A. are here, at one of the high stakes poker tables," the young woman replied. "And I wanted to remind you that at ten o'clock, you are having drinks on the rooftop balcony with Dr. Grissom."
Catherine's eyes widened and she felt her cheeks heat up. "I... I completely forgot."
Sandy smiled. "It's been a busy couple of days, ma'am," she reminded her. "I went to your suite and brought two choices of evening wear down for you."
"Thank you, Sandy," Catherine murmured. "I'll go to the poker tables after I send Lindsey and my mother upstairs."
"Fifteen minutes, tops," the assistant insisted, before scurrying off.
Catherine sighed and ran her hands over her stomach as she turned and walked back to the table.
"You have to go?"
She looked down into her daughter's face and decided to sit at the table again. With a little smile, she touched Lindsey's cheek and said, "In a little while. Finish your dessert and I'll walk you upstairs."
Lindsey smiled a bit. "Can Grandma stay and help me with my homework?"
"I was hoping she could," Catherine said as she turned to look at her mother. The older woman nodded and then Catherine turned back to Lindsey. "You'll do your homework... but no room service."
Catherine's mother was the one who pouted and huffed. Catherine laughed and wagged a finger in the redhead's direction. "You're worse than Lindsey sometimes."
"I like chocolate!" the older woman protested.
"Yes, and then you go home and I'm left scraping Lindsey off of the ceiling!" Catherine said on a laugh.
Lindsey licked the ice cream from the spoon and then grinned at her mother. "You make me sound like a tyrant."
Catherine smiled and brushed her fingers through her daughter's hair affectionately. "Only when you're hopped up on sugar."
They left the restaurant shortly after that. Catherine walked with them as far as the elevators and then she kissed her daughter and promised to be up to tuck her in for bed. She figured that Gil wouldn't mind her leaving him on the balcony for a few minutes while she saw her daughter; she knew he wouldn't want to go into her new home, so she guessed the other location would be neutral territory.
Introducing herself to the poker players, spending some time with them, and making sure they were satisfied with her employees' services took a little longer than she expected and her cell phone started to ring at her hip as Sandy was ushering her towards the elevators.
"H-hello?" she answered, sounding a little breathless. It wasn't always easy to hurry in alluring shoes.
"Catherine?"
She smiled. "Gil... hi. You're not upstairs already are you? I'm running a little late, so---"
"No, I'm not upstairs," he interrupted quietly.
Her heart fell. She silently berated herself for thinking he was calling for a *good* reason; he rarely did, anymore.
"You're canceling."
Before he could respond, there was some noise in his background. She strained to listen to it. She heard rustling---the kind of sound that one's hand makes when it slides over the phone. His fingers didn't completely block out his next, not-meant-for-Catherine words, though.
She heard nine words perfectly clear.
"Sara, hold on... I'll meet you in the living---"
She guessed 'room' ended that sentence, and part of her wanted to reach through the phone and strangle him---and then Sara. He was probably at her place---she doubted that Gil would invite the brunette into his home, since personal invitations to the townhouse were rare---and they were meeting in the living room. It didn't sound very professional to Catherine and she had to press her fingernails into the heel of her hand in order to keep herself from losing control in a very public place.
"Catherine?"
She inhaled a long breath and then replied. "I'm still here."
"I can't come over tonight."
"I know," she said quietly.
Gil sighed. "If things were different---"
"If things were different, I would resent you for trying to hold me back. If things were different, I might feel like apologising for taking care of my family. If things were different, you would be man enough to tell me the truth," she said in a quiet voice. This voice wasn't the smaller voice from a few moments ago; this voice belonged to a sharper, stronger personality that wanted to stand up for herself. "If things were different, you would be man enough to realise that I haven't changed one little bit and to apologise for being such a bastard."
There was silence on Gil's end.
Catherine sucked in a quick breath and said, "I hope you enjoy your evening with Sara. Goodnight, Gil."
She hung up the phone without waiting for his reply. Then, she turned her phone off and tucked it back into her purse.
"Well, Sandy," Catherine said, forcing a brave smile onto her face. "I'm going to take another lap around the casino and then I'm going upstairs to help my daughter with her homework." She paused and then added: "Why don't you finish up and go home?"
Sandy smiled a little and nodded, before ducking into the executive elevator. Catherine waited until the doors closed behind her, and then she turned from the elevator bay and ran a shaking hand through her hair.
&&&&
Josh passed Catherine her end-of-the-night scotch and smiled at her. "You're here late," he commented.
She shrugged. "Can never get away from this place."
"Mr. Braun spent a lot of time on the floor, too," the bartender remarked. "He told the other casino managers to do the same... he wanted his to have a personal touch, you know? Like he was a real person."
Catherine snorted. "Funny... he always seemed like the most untouchable man in the world to me."
Josh smiled; Catherine guessed he didn't know what to say to that, and she decided to let it slide.
"Are you happy here, Josh?" Catherine asked.
The bartender looked surprised by her question. After a minute, he shrugged and said, "Sure? I mean... I don't like all the waitresses. And working nights kind of sucks. But, the casino---I mean, you pay well, Ms. Willows, and the tips are good."
"Is this what you want to do?"
"I like having a job that lets me have hobbies," Josh replied. "I like being able to go out, to spend time doing the things that I like to do." He shrugged again. "As long as it's okay, I don't mind the work."
Catherine smiled.
A customer came up and ordered a drink. After the man left, Josh walked back over to where Catherine was perched. He smiled. "You're getting the hang of it. Soon, you won't feel like you need to be here every day... and you'll be able to get a bit of your personal life back."
"How do you know?"
He smiled more. "I just do."
She laughed softly. "Do... do you think I'm doing a good job?"
"I do. Casino hasn't fallen apart at the seams... everything's still running smoothly..."
She smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Josh."
"No problem." He grinned at her. "I used to work in a smaller bar, off-strip, and I'd never hear the end of people's problems. Here, everyone's too busy gambling or getting laid to stop and talk to the barkeep. I like that you stop by and visit."
"I like our little chats, too," Catherine admitted as she rose off of her barstool. "Thanks for the scotch, Josh."
"See you tomorrow night?"
She grinned back at him. "Probably."
Josh chuckled and nodded before going back to work. Catherine took her drink and sauntered around the main floor. She felt a shiver at the back of her neck as she took it all in; sometimes, it was hard to believe that it was all hers.
A head of blond hair caught her eye as she passed a few small tables in the lounge.
"Travis?"
The young man cleared his throat and smiled as he rose to his feet. "Catherine," he said, smiling at her. He shook her hand and then leaned in to kiss her cheek; the gesture surprised Catherine because while they flirted on the job, she never really knew the man that well. "Good to see you."
"You, too," she agreed, stepping back and smiling at him. "They let you out of the lab?"
He shrugged. "Every once in a while." He smiled and offered her a seat. She took it and found herself looking at the woman who had attracted her attention earlier in the evening. "Catherine Willows, this is---"
"Irina Derevko," the other woman said demurely, offering a hand for shaking.
Catherine accepted and felt another shiver; this frisson traveled the complete length of her spine before dissolving into goose bumps over her skin.
"A pleasure," Catherine murmured, before breaking away and sipping her scotch.
"We were just..." Travis trailed off for a moment. "Having a business meeting."
"You two are colleagues?" Catherine asked, looking from one to the other. She let her gaze rest upon the other woman. "You're a scientist?"
Irina smiled---that slow, dangerous smile---and then she shook her head. "No, but I am offering Travis a job that is well-suited to his abilities."
"Private sector," Catherine mused. "Nice."
Travis smiled. "No court. No Ecklie."
Catherine laughed softly. "I think that's what convinced me to switch careers," she joked.
Travis' cell phone rang, interrupting their small, shared laugh. He took one look at the display and rose to his feet. "Excuse me," he said politely.
Irina nodded at him, her cryptic eyes following the younger man. Catherine wondered what the other woman was calculating in her mind; their relationship seemed cool enough for colleagues, but not so cold to suggest they were near-strangers or potential employer and employee.
When Irina turned her eyes onto Catherine, the strawberry-blonde felt her mind go blank. She felt uneasy and she wasn't sure if she liked that feeling yet.
"Have we... have we met before?" Catherine asked quietly. "You look very familiar."
"Through your work in forensics?" Irina questioned, sounding casual. She picked up her drink---something clear, on ice---and sipped it. "Perhaps we met at a conference."
Catherine pressed her lips together and thought about it. She knew she would have remembered seeing Irina at a conference; seeing a woman like that would have made the conference a bit more enjoyable, even if Catherine only watched her from afar. So, she doubted that their previous encounter pertained to science or forensics.
"No... I don't think that's it," Catherine replied quietly. "Have you been to Vegas much?"
"Not in a very long time," Irina answered after crunching down on an ice cube. "My business has me traveling a lot. Usually through Europe."
"Oh."
Irina smiled. "The last time I was here, I spent most of my time entertaining business associates in a place called 'The French Palace,'" she said, before snorting. "Not that there is anything French about the place."
Catherine blinked. "So that's it..."
She blushed, chuckled, and shook her head. "I used to dance there," Catherine supplied.
"I remember."
"Were you ever going to just come out and tell me?" Catherine inquired. "Or were you going to let me think I was going crazy?"
Irina chuckled a little. "I didn't know if you wanted to be reminded."
Catherine smiled and shrugged. "I've made peace with that part of my past... I provided for my family and I paid for my education with that job. I could have ended up in worse positions." She smiled more and then leaned in and asked, "Did you enjoy my performance?"
Irina opened her mouth to reply, but Travis returned to the table. "Sorry, ladies," he said quietly. "What did I miss?"
"I was just about to tell Catherine that the last time I saw her, I really enjoyed her performance."
Travis narrowed his eyes and looked at Catherine. "Performance?"
"Mmhmm," Irina purred, after a sip of her drink. "It was very enjoyable."
"When were you in Vegas last?" Travis asked.
"A long time ago..." Irina mused, smirking. "Jack brought me along on one of his trips."
Travis snorted. "Charming," he muttered before sipping his glass of red wine.
Irina set her glass tumbler down and asked him a question. "Was that the buyer on the phone?"
"Actually, no," Travis replied. "A contact of mine who has located the manuscript."
Irina smiled. "Good. We'll put together an extraction soon." Her smile stretched. "Relax, enjoy your wine. We have plenty of time. As far as I'm aware, Jack and Sydney know nothing about it."
"Should I even be here listening?" Catherine asked, feeling excluded and out of place. "It seems like you two are having a private---"
Travis turned his head and smiled at her. "Hardly. Our business arrangements are over for the evening and now we can return our focus to you."
Catherine laughed softly and shook her head. "It doesn't all need to be on me."
"Were you a showgirl?" Travis asked quietly as his fingers traveled along the stem of his wine glass. "Is that how Irina saw you 'perform?'"
She laughed again. "Not quite... you're close, though."
She saw Travis think on her words for a moment, and then his eyes widened a bit. He cleared his throat again and said, "Well, I wasn't expecting that."
"I did what I had to do---"
"And she was very good at it," Irina murmured.
Travis smirked. "Too bad I missed it."
"Too bad," Catherine agreed, before sipping her scotch.
&&&&
Catherine had three reasons to rationalise her current behavior and her current position: one, Travis had purchased three rounds of drinks from Josh, her trustworthy bartender; two, she was upset with Gil abandoning their relationship; and three, she wanted to prove that she was still alive.
As she slid her body over Irina's seated form, in the safety of her hotel room, and turned to watch Travis' reaction, she wondered if there was a fourth reason: she liked the way it felt inside.
Travis shifted in his seat and smiled, before saluting the women with his wine glass.
The strawberry blonde smiled back and then turned her attention back to the brunette underneath her, before reaching behind her and unclasping her bra.
In the back of her mind, warnings screamed: she was a mother; she was a respectable woman; she was no longer a stripper; she was a businesswoman. But, she ignored them all and continued to move suggestively.
The dance was almost over when Travis' cell phone rang, breaking the sexual tension and bringing awkwardness to the situation.
"Hullo?"
Catherine thought she heard Travis speak in a British accent and she opened her mouth to ask the other adults why he switched voices---but she felt Irina's fingers skim her stomach and she gasped and lost her train of thought.
"You're not supposed to touch the dancers," Catherine whispered, smiling at the other woman.
Irina smirked but didn't say anything in reply. Instead, she leaned up and kissed Catherine briefly. That kiss lead to more, accompanied by a series of touches made by both pairs of hands.
"Ah... well, good then. I am going to have to call you back," Travis said quietly. "Send the information to the storage server."
Catherine heard the snap of a phone being closed and then she felt a pair of hands on her hips. Travis pressed himself against her from behind and guided her up so her body was pressed against his.
"I believe this would be more comfortable on the bed," he said, still in his accented voice.
"Are you British?" Catherine asked quietly, sounding almost breathless.
"I am many things," Travis replied cryptically.
Irina snorted and rose to her feet. Without preamble, she kissed Catherine again---with certainty and passion---and then she backed up to remove her shirt. Travis started kissing her neck; Catherine shifted and sighed softly.
"Alright?" Travis asked.
She nodded. "Y-yeah," she whispered. "Bed sounds like a good idea."
They made their way to the bed, tumbling onto it as gracefully as three aroused adults could manage. Catherine allowed herself to be swept up in the feelings, in the actions that such activity required; blood pounded through her veins, coloured her skin, and made her seek more contact, more friction.
Nothing else mattered to Catherine in the few hours they spent together. It wasn't until later that she realised her fingers had brushed the cold metal of a gun tucked under a pillow, and that there was much more to Travis than what she had previously assumed.
After their passion had ebbed and faded away, Catherine allowed herself to relax against the mattress and pillows so she could gather her wits and extricate herself from the situation.
"That was... unexpected," she said quietly.
"Fun, though," Travis added, sounding more American than he did earlier.
Catherine smiled and leaned over to kiss his swollen lips once. "Mmm... yes. Fun."
"Are you going to spend the night?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No... I should go home," she replied. "I have a daughter. She shouldn't spend the night alone."
"Yes," Irina agreed quietly. "I never liked leaving my daughter, either."
She turned her head and kissed Irina's cheek. "Thank you," she murmured. She sat up and started the search for her clothes. "I guess I won't see you again---"
"You never know," Irina interrupted. "Stranger things have happened."
Catherine laughed softly as she extricated herself from the tangle of bodies.
She dressed slowly and then when she was finished, she saw Travis move to the desk to open a laptop. Irina was wearing his shirt and was pouring herself a drink of water as she paced the room. She turned her attention away and looked for her purse and shoes; she heard them conversing quietly, but she didn't really focus on what they were saying.
"Bye," Catherine called out.
Irina met her for a brief kiss and then she walked the strawberry blonde to the door.
Catherine tried to keep her thoughts in check until she was in the elevator. Too many of them overwhelmed her the instant the golden doors slid shut: thoughts on her wanton, reckless behavior; thoughts on the gun she felt under the pillow; thoughts on the guarded expressions and careful language her lovers had employed; and so on.
As she walked into her suite---the spacious penthouse reserved for the casino's owner---she found herself wondering if she had changed the way Gil suspected she would, if she had abandoned her morals and become a 'bad person.'
"Mommy?"
"What are you still doing up, babe?" Catherine asked as she saw her daughter in the hallway.
"I wanted to wait up for you," Lindsey said honestly. "I don't like being here by myself at night."
Catherine forgot that her daughter was still young---even though she was strong-willed and struggled for so much independence.
"The guards are just down the hall," Catherine reminded her daughter. "No one would hurt you."
Lindsey nodded. "I know... it's just... you know."
"Yeah," Catherine agreed. She toed out of her shoes and then said, "How about you go tuck into my bed? I just need to get a shower, and then I'll join you."
"Can we watch a bit of a movie?"
Catherine looked at the clock. It was almost midnight---but it was a Friday, and they could both sleep through some of the morning. In a moment of weakness---or a moment of craving some sort of normalcy---she smiled and nodded. "Sure. You pick, okay? I'm just going to get a shower."
"Can I pop popcorn?"
"Sure thing," she said. "No butter, though. And no Coke. Have water or juice or something, okay?"
Lindsey nodded and walked into the kitchen. Catherine went straight to the master bathroom to clean her body and give her mind some time to process everything.
Fifteen minutes later, they were curled up under a luxurious comforter, eating popcorn and watching a rather girly, lighthearted movie. Forty minutes later, Lindsey was sound asleep. Sixty-five minutes later, Catherine was sound asleep, as well, and the movie continued playing quietly in the background.
&&&&
"Where are we going, Mom?" Lindsey asked.
Catherine smiled. "We are getting out of the casino, Linds," she said in reply as they walked down the sidewalk together. "We need a break. And, there's a great breakfast place a few blocks away."
"We could've been driven there."
After a laugh, Catherine ruffled her daughter's hair and said, "Can't we just be normal people for a little while?"
Lindsey sighed. "I guess so."
Catherine laughed again and continued to guide her daughter towards the restaurant.
The graveshift team of crime scene investigators went to this particular restaurant after long shifts and bad cases. There were great breakfast platters on the menu, and the coffee was perfection. Catherine woke up, feeling a few waves of guilt---and a couple waves related to a mild hangover---and she knew that familiar comfort food would be the best cure.
Secretly, she hoped that she would run into Warrick or Nick. Lindsey would enjoy their company as well.
"Mom... Gil's inside."
"Oh? Is he?" Catherine asked as she stepped up to the window of the restaurant.
"Yeah... with that other woman on your team."
Catherine sighed and swept her blue-eyed gaze over the tables until she saw them. They were sitting side by side in a booth---the same booth that she and Gil had shared many times.
"Are we going in?" Lindsey asked, sensing that her mother's mood had changed.
Catherine sighed again. "I... I don't think I want to see Gil today, Linds."
"Why, Mom?"
She looked down at her daughter. "We had a fight yesterday."
"Oh." Lindsey paused and then shrugged. "Okay. Where do you want to go?"
"Anywhere else you want," Catherine replied as she smiled and guided her daughter back onto the sidewalk.
As they walked into another restaurant, Catherine made a mental note to call Warrick and plan another trip to the boxing gym.
&&&&
Part Four - "Starting Over"
"What do you mean?" Gil inquired, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. "You're both taking the week off?"
"Yeah," Warrick said with a shrug. "We know that Sara and Greg can handle the week's cases and neither of us have anything going to trial in the near future."
Nick cleared his throat. "And we both have plenty of vacation days set aside."
Gil couldn't deny that. They all worked so much overtime, getting caught up in their cases, that they could take lengthy vacations; Greg was the only one who made sure he regularly used his vacation time.
"Do you both have to go at once?"
"We were invited to the same place at the same time," Warrick said in explanation.
Gil sighed and nodded. "Yeah... okay. You can have seven days. Fill out the paperwork and leave it with me. I'll sign off on it."
"Thanks, Grissom," Nick said quietly, before turning and walking on his heel.
Warrick had already completed his paperwork. He produced the triplicate sheet with a flourish and set it on Gil's desk. Gil made note of the dates and then signed where the supervisor had to sign.
"Thanks."
Gil looked up at his colleague. "Where are you two going?"
"Atlantic City."
The older man must've looked confused, because Warrick immediately added: "Catherine invited us to go with her. She has some sort of conference... and then she decided to take some time off."
"Is Lindsey going with her?"
"Lindsey's staying with her grandmother," Warrick replied.
Gil nodded and leaned back in his chair. He forced himself to smile. "Well, have a good time."
"Grissom, you screwed up."
"Warrick---"
"No, man. You screwed up. And you need to hear it. Because I'm friends with you and I'm friends with her," Warrick interupted. "I haven't said anything to you because we work together, because you're my boss. But, this whole mess you're in? Your fault entirely."
"Well, thank you for that---"
"She hasn't changed," Warrick pointed out. "Not once. She hasn't gone to the dark side, she doesn't break the law for sport... she still tries to raise her daughter and to put food on the table." He shrugged. "It's a little easier now, but, still. She's still Catherine and you put her through the wringer for no good reason."
"Is it time for my two a.m. scolding?" Gil asked.
"Maybe, yeah," Warrick replied. "No one else'll tell you. Greg won't. Nick won't. Sara definitely won't. But, you need to know that I'm not scared of you. I'm not in love with you either."
Gil rolled his eyes. "Sara's not---"
"Completely, head over heels, over the moon in love with you, Grissom. And if you can't see that, you're a bigger idiot than I thought you were."
He sighed. "Warrick---"
"Look, I don't want to spend the rest of the shift in here," Warrick said quietly. "But, moral of the story? You screwed up. You had the real thing and you wrecked it. And now you have something else entirely, but it'll never be as good as what you had before."
Gil struggled not to grind his teeth together in frustration. "Thank you, Warrick," he ground out instead.
"She hasn't changed," Warrick said after a sigh. "She's busier than she used to be, and she isn't your right-hand anymore... but she hasn't changed. She's not a mob boss. She's just Catherine."
Gil pressed his lips together and refused to say anything. He didn't know what Warrick expected of him; should he apologise and admit that he screwed up, or should he defend the choices he made?
He missed Catherine. She had been by his side for so long that not having her there made his heart ache. Their romantic relationship made that ache even more profound.
But, he knew what Sam was capable of. And he could not justify his behavior, no more than he could justify Catherine's behavior in similar circumstances. Catherine could turn out like Sam did, and that would put them on opposite sides of the law; Gil didn't know what he would do if that happened.
So, he buried himself in his work. When that didn't work, he gave in to Sara's second wave of pursuits. She helped him feel alive and forget about what he was missing---but only for a few hours. Then, he was left alone with his thoughts and regrets again.
He didn't know what to say, though, so he decided to say nothing at all.
Warrick sighed again. "Yeah, anyway... whatever. We're going to Atlantic City."
"Well, enjoy yourselves."
Before the taller, darker man turned on his heel and left the office, he dropped another piece of paper down onto Gil's desk.
"War---"
Warrick ignored the paper, even after Gil picked it up and tried to call out after him.
"See you in a week, Boss," Warrick called out over his shoulder as he left.
Gil looked down at the paper. A confused smile spread over his face as he realised it was their trip details: flight and hotel information.
He set the paper down and tried to get back to work. An hour later, the paper was still 'staring' at him from his desk.
&&&&
Catherine walked across the hotel lobby, flanked by Warrick and Nick. She laughed at something Nick said, and then she leaned in and impulsively kissed his cheek.
"What was that for?"
She didn't reply right away. First, she kissed Warrick's cheek. Then, she spoke. "I'm very glad you both came with me."
Nick grinned at her. "Hey, I'm here for the gambling," he teased in his slow Texan drawl.
Warrick smirked. "I'm here to be with a beautiful lady."
Catherine laughed again. "Okay. Enough sap. My meetings are officially over, so let's go get something to drink to celebrate."
"Sounds like a plan," Nick agreed as they walked into the hotel bar.
"Did you want to play cards while we're here?" Warrick asked the strawberry blonde, after they ordered drinks and sat down at a small table.
Catherine smiled and shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. But, I don't want you to feel left out or---"
"I can play poker with my friends without becoming a crazed addict," Warrick pointed out with a smile, before he sipped from his bottle of beer. "Why don't we get a table and have some fun?"
"Yeah?" she asked, grinning at him.
He nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly.
She smiled and sipped from her glass of wine. After letting the wine sit on her tongue for a moment, so she could savour its flavour, she swallowed and enjoyed the warmth the liquid created as it slid down into her stomach.
They talked about Catherine's meetings---how boring they were, did she meet anyone remotely interesting or not sleazy, and was there any useful information gleaned that she could apply to her own casino empire---with ease. Catherine shared a few antedotes from one of the more interesting luncheons and was about to ask Warrick about some of the newer casino scams when his cell phone rang.
"Brown."
Catherine watched as his lips twitched into a smirk. "Yeah... alright," he said quietly. "We're just down in the bar now... we're going to play poker soon. Yeah? Okay, then." He chuckled. "I'm glad. Talk to you later."
"Was that who I think it was?" Nick asked after drinking some of his beer.
Warrick only smiled and shrugged.
Catherine swatted at Warrick's shoulder. "Who was it?" she asked, laughing a little.
"A friend in Vegas," he replied cryptically.
She arched an eyebrow. "New girlfriend? You've only been divorced for how long?"
Warrick laughed. "Hey, now. I'm behaving myself."
Nick snorted and then looked away, seemingly innocently scanning the bar's quiet population. Catherine touched his arm and when he looked back at her, she made sure that she had her most stern expression on her face.
"Don't look at me like that," he told her. "I don't know anything."
"Liar."
He smiled at her and then reached out to gently tug on a few strands of hair. She laughed and rolled her eyes, before returning to her glass of wine.
&&&&
"I am never playing poker with either of you ever again," Nick complained as they walked from the casino floor to a bar.
Catherine giggled and wrapped her arm around his waist---for stability and for warmth. "Why not, Nicky?"
"Because... because Warrick is too damn cool and because you... you are a pro!"
She laughed harder, snorting a little. "I've learned to control my tells, Nick. It's important in my line of work."
"As a hustler?"
After another snort, she shook her head and replied, "No. As an upstanding casino manager. I'm not allowed to let my emotions and responses show."
They piled into a booth, ordered drinks and some light food, and continued to talk about the game---mainly how both Warrick and Catherine had poker faces that would rival those of the professional players, and how Nick was as readable as an open book.
Catherine hadn't felt that good in a long time, she admitted silently, as she watched Warrick and Nick heckle back and forth. After her sexual escapades in her own casino, she had plagued herself with self-imposed guilt and forced herself to work harder and to be a better mother. Vacation days were rare---only once, when Lindsey's school needed a chaperone for a field trip---and she had felt herself becoming too serious.
Being with her 'boys,' though, was having a reversing effect on all that seriousness.
She grinned at something Warrick said and then she let her eyes travel over the room. She observed the bar's other customers, taking in their appearances and inventing names and occupations and backgrounds for them.
When a blue eyed man caught her eye, by staring at her, she blinked and looked away for a moment. Upon meeting his stare with one of her own, she noticed that there were two more pairs of eyes staring at her---and her companions. One of the other pairs was another shade of chilling blue, the other was much darker but not as bold.
"Cath?"
"Mmm?"
"We're being watched," Warrick commented.
She chuckled but didn't tear her eyes away from the group staring back at her. "I know," she murmured. "Why?"
"Dunno," he said quietly.
She smirked subtly and turned her eyes back to her friend's face. "Interesting," she said, her voice almost a purr.
He smirked and shrugged. "Sort of, yeah."
"Hey, what are you two talking about?"
Warrick chuckled and looked at Nick. "Nevermind, Stokes."
After a few minutes, during which Catherine and Warrick shared knowing smiles over their drinks, Nick suddenly blurted out: "Those people are watching us."
Catherine dissolved into giggles.
&&&&
"Where are you two going?" Catherine asked, pouting as she walked Warrick and Nick across the lobby.
"We are going to bed," Warrick told her. "We've got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow."
"It's ten o'clock!" she complained.
Nick gave her a gentle smile. "We're lightweights."
Catherine pouted even more. Warrick chuckled and patted her cheek. "See you in the morning for breakfast?" he asked quietly.
She nodded. "Yeah," she murmured.
He kissed her forehead and then followed Nick into an elevator. Catherine sighed, ran a hand through her hair, and then turned and walked away from the line of elevators and back into the bar.
She ordered a martini at the bar and then turned to find a place to sit. After half of a sweep across the room, she saw movement directed at her.
The brunette with one of the pairs of gorgeously chilling blue eyes had risen to her feet and waved.
Catherine quelled a flutter of butterflies in her stomach and then she walked over to the table, silently telling herself that she was on vacation and she should be having fun and meeting new people.
"Hi," the woman said from her position between the two men---the one on her left was the man with the other pair of blue eyes, and the one on her right looked up at her with shy, dark eyes.
"Hi," Catherine replied, smiling awkwardly. She extended her free hand for shaking. "I'm Catherine."
The man with the dark eyes slid out of the booth and offered her his hand for shaking. "James," he said, smiling at her. "Would you like to join us?"
"Sure," she agreed, slipping into the booth when he invited her.
"I'm Lisa," the brunette told her.
"And that pain in the ass is---"
"Greg," the other man said with a smirk.
Catherine sipped her drink and smiled. "Nice to meet you all," she said quietly. "You guys in town for business or pleasure?"
"Does anyone come to Atlantic City for business?"
The strawberry blonde laughed. "Maybe," she said, lying because she only wanted to be herself.
"Are you enjoying yourself so far?" Lisa asked.
Catherine smiled and shrugged. "So far, so good. You?"
"We've been keeping her busy," Greg said, still smirking but looking much more satisfied than he did a few moments ago.
Lisa replied by butting her elbow sharply into Greg's ribcage. He groaned and rubbed the spot she abused.
"If that bruises---"
"Won't be the first bruise this weekend, I'm guessing?" Catherine interupted, meeting his gaze.
James snorted into his drink. Lisa smiled and tucked one tendril of brown hair behind her ear.
"Well, not collectively," Greg shot back. "My first, though."
"There's a first time for everything," Catherine pointed out. She sipped her martini and then, as the vodka warmed her, she added: "Maybe you'll end up enjoying... the art of being bruised."
Greg smirked. "Is that an invitation?"
"My invitations are much more direct than that," she informed him.
His smirk stretched into a grin and then he raised his tumbler in salute. Catherine mimicked his actions.
Then, their conversation was safely steered to more neutral topics, thanks to James and Lisa. The four of them ordered another round of drinks after a while, and while Catherine missed Nick's and Warrick's presence, she didn't feel very lonely.
"You know, Jimmy," Greg said after a while. "Most men would consider us to be very lucky."
"House..."
"Two beautiful women between us."
Lisa rolled her eyes. "Greg, knock it off."
"Why? I know where flattery will get me..."
James touched Catherine's elbow. "I apologise for his---"
"Oh, don't," Catherine interupted, smiling broadly at the other man. "I'm enjoying this as much as you are... Jimmy."
He chuckled and gently clinked his glass against hers. She chuckled and sipped her drink.
After a few more rounds, the bar staff informed them that they were closing soon and they should take their party somewhere else.
"No fun anymore," Greg complained as he threw a few bills onto the table.
Catherine added some of her own money and she gathered her purse as she slipped out of the booth behind James. "Oh well. I'm sure you'll find something to do," she said in a sly tone of voice.
"You don't have any ideas for me?" he asked, pouting a little.
She reached up and ruffled his already-ruffled hair. "None that you haven't already heard."
"Cuddy?" Greg asked. "You got any ideas?"
Lisa was sliding out of the booth when he asked that question. Catherine offered her a hand, and she accepted it, so she could rise to her full height more gracefully. After releasing Catherine's hand, she slipped her arm around the blonde's back. Catherine fought a shiver; the woman was warm and their contact made her skin tingle a little.
"Mmm... none that I can repeat down here."
Catherine felt her stomach tighten. She stopped trying to rationalise her position within this group of friends, lovers, or whatever they were, and she just smiled and followed the conversation.
"God, I love when we take you on vacation," Greg commented. "Jimmy had a bright idea a while back, didn't he?"
James laughed. "A compliment from House. I... am... well, speechless."
Catherine reached out and tickled his chin. "Apparently not. You're talking just fine."
He laughed again and took her hand. She didn't let him slip her fingers through his, nor did he push for the more intimate hand-holding. He seemed content to just hold it, and then, after they started walking, he released her hand to put her arm through his.
"Do you guys do this often?" Catherine inquired once they were walking to the lobby.
"What? Find leggy blondes in casino bars and invite them to join us for the evening?" Greg asked.
"Well... more or less, yeah."
Lisa put her fingers over Greg's mouth before he could say anything. "Actually, no," she interupted. "And you don't have to oblige us... I mean, if you have plans already."
"I don't," she told them honestly. "But---"
Another set of blue eyes, from the front doors of the hotel this time, caught her attention.
"Catherine?" Greg asked.
The owner of those blue eyes stepped forward---only by three, uncertain steps.
Catherine swallowed hard and tried to smile; she didn't know how well the gesture was working, though, because she could feel her lower lip trembling.
She stopped and looked at Lisa. "I'm sorry. I... I... I can't. I'm sure we'd have fun... but..."
"Catherine?"
At the sound of Gil's voice, Catherine felt her face flush pink. Lisa smiled. "He's cute."
"He's a pain in the ass."
"Literally?" Greg asked, before James nudged him on the other side of his torso. "Great," he muttered. "Now, I'll have a matching set."
Catherine chuckled and then said, "It was very nice to meet you three. I had a great night." She kissed their cheeks---in the order of Lisa, Greg, and then James---and then she smiled again. "Maybe we'll see you tomorrow?"
"Maybe," Lisa agreed. "If you want to bring your mystery man... Jimmy's a sucker for blue eyes," she teased with a wink.
The strawberry blonde laughed and nodded. "Alright. See you later."
Once they were gone, Gil stepped up to her. "Hi," he said quietly. "New... associates?"
"None of your business," she said brusquely. She pressed her lips together, collected herself, and then said: "So you're the one Warrick was talking to on his phone earlier."
He nodded. "Yeah."
"They set me up?"
"I asked them to," he said in the same quiet voice. He sighed. "Uh... would you like to go for a walk? I have a lot I need to say and the lobby of a hotel and casino doesn't really..."
When he trailed off, she finished: "Cut it?"
"Yeah."
She nodded and motioned towards the doors. He put a hand on her lower back and guided her out of the building.
No one spoke for ten minutes. Catherine had a million questions and statements brewing inside of her, but she didn't know what order they should be put into.
After thinking for a few minutes, she finally blurted out: "Did Sara dump you?"
Gil coughed twice, then answered her question. "No... we had a long talk. I... Catherine, nothing's been right since we... or, since I clammed up."
"Clammed up?" she echoed. "That's a very mild way of putting it, don't you think? You froze me out, you were passive-agressive, you---"
"I know, I know," he interupted. "I'm sorry for that. I hate that I lost you."
"Are you here to win me back or something?"
"No," he replied. "I'm just here to apologise. I guess the gesture would have been bigger if I showed up in your casino with roses or something, but I didn't want to attract too much attention, and I just... couldn't wait for you to come back."
Catherine turned her head a bit to look at him as they walked. "You can still show up with roses," she told him quietly. "Next week, when I'm back."
"Yeah?"
She nodded and looked away. "Yeah."
"Catherine... will we ever..."
She shrugged. "I don't know, Gil. I don't know if I can trust you."
"Why---"
"You changed, Gil," she told him. "Or... maybe you were always this way, and I just didn't notice it. You abandoned me when I needed you the most. And maybe I haven't always been there, either, but my father died and you looked like you could have celebrated."
Gil sighed. "I'm sorry," he murmured.
"Me, too," she agreed.
They continued to walk, although their words with each other ended at that point. Catherine's feet were starting to hurt, but she didn't complain---so she was surprised when Gil stopped them in front of a picnic table along the boardwalk and guided her into a sitting position.
He sat down next to her and they looked up at the stars.
"Who were those people you were with?" Gil asked.
"A threesome couple of some kind," she replied honestly. "I think they wanted me to join them tonight."
Catherine fought to hide her smile as Gil swallowed so hard she could hear it. "Oh," he whispered.
"I've been quite the troublemaker in your absence," she said, teasingly.
"You've always been quite the troublemaker," he shot back, his voice full of amusement.
"I had a threesome a few weeks ago."
Gil coughed and then said, "I don't think I've ever had one."
"Maybe someday," she murmured. "Lots of hands..."
He closed his eyes for a moment and said, "I've always been partial to your hands."
"Even now?"
He sighed. "Yeah... even now."
They fell silent. Catherine wasn't sure that she had the strength to curse him or cry over everything he put her through. She knew they had a lot to talk about, and Gil had a lot of work to do---to prove that he was serious about her, that he wasn't going to run away again---but he was there, and for some reason, that meant a lot to her.
"They're better in the desert," Catherine commented quietly.
"Yeah," he agreed.
The End!